Divided We Fall
by Izaya-chi
Summary: A tragic story involving all of the beta trolls and kids that takes place in 1218 A.D. England. Yes, this means that there are character deaths. However, there *will* be a sequel due to something Jade does in the tale. Rated Mature for explicit sexual themes and extreme violence as the story progresses. [The cover image is a work in progress, by the way.]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not—in any way, shape or form—own the characters in this story. They belong to Andrew Hussie, the creator of _Homestuck_. Otherwise this would be on fiction_press_, not _fan_fiction.

**Quick Note (please read)**: Yeah, yeah I am aware that I am beginning yet another fic when I can't even hold up my others, but I'm really serious about this one and plan to edit the whole thing with my own characters once it's completed in hopes that I will be able to publish this sometime next year. This will be updated weekly, meaning that chapter two is expected to be posted next Thursday, August 28th (yes, chapter one is to be posted later on today).I do have a table of contents with each chapter planned out, and there are expected to be twenty-two in total (including the prologue that you're about to read). My geographical notes are located at the bottom of this story and they are totally optional for you to read. Last thing: the story is told in third person omniscient (if you can't tell by the end and are unsure still). Hope you enjoy; and feel free to relay any criticism you may have of this story—I am always open to hearing any opinion whatsoever (^^)!

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**Prologue**

There were three lands. Well, two lands separated by a large lake and two cities, one forest town. The lands altogether were known as the county of Filindia and were a part of the country of England, north-east to London. However, this took place before London existed, the two Kingdoms being established in 628 A.D.

When looking down on the land from a bird's point of view, the two Kingdoms are completely separated by Lake Doombreak, which is practically split in itself due to the estranged weather cast. More specifically, half the lake is sparkling beneath a blue sky while the other half fogged-over under a gray sky, and ridiculously humid. The right half of Lake Doombreak is the mirthful side, and is closest to the Kingdom of Taraunus.

Unlike its name, the Kingdom of Taraunus was a rather happy place with an unruly Queen that managed to keep everything in order. Her subjects were very loyal and her closest knights the epitome of. Even the citizens adored her, and the peasants appreciated her more than they did any of the previous rulers. However, the skies had not always been as clear as they are now, and the royals had suspected it was because of the mage a band of guards had discovered living in a stone cottage in the lush forest behind the wood-smiths lot one day in 1200 A.D.

Although the woman had put up a good fight, the militia group had managed to trap her along the shoreline of Lake Doombreak; where she met her immediate end by them. She was denied a proper burial, even if she was the "last mage," and instead was left there to float atop the surface of the dark waters of Lake Doombreak. After that unfortunate event, the gray clouds had moved on elsewhere, and the population rate broke record, reaching higher than ever before for the Kingdom of Tartaunus. However, the soil mysteriously a lot less futile. Fish business boomed and there was also a dramatic increase of butchery.

On the left side of Lake Doombreak lay Hopeland Kingdom, the Kingdom that used to be "the place to be" with the largest population England had ever known—until the Last Mage was exterminated that fateful day in 1200 A.D. The gray sky that had left Tartaunus' side had taken up residence in Hopeland Kingdom, _and hasn't left since_. It rains twice or thrice every week and floods the streets (especially the peasants' mud roads outside the main town) four times a month. The disease rate had risen to quite a fleet in 1207 A.D., and every desperate peasant had either saved up all the fare money they could manage to ride the ferry over to the Kingdom of Tartaunus, or died sick. The land became very poor and food so scarce that it was a wonder how some farmers still managed to prosper in Hopeland with their crop fields drenched all the time. The only food businesses that prospered the most were, again, the fish mongers and any baker. Butchers had to hunt elsewhere, which even then was too pricey for the constant travel expense as well as the fee to hunt on Tartaunus since they paid tax in Hopeland. They would hunt in Brinkman—the forest land attached to Hopeland on a high slope on the non-peasant driven side of the main town—since most of the animals of Hopeland had migrated there, but the female residents banished there all harbored a deep hate for man and often more than not, chased them all the way back downslope to the Hopeland borderline of the large forest.

Needless to say, "Hopeland" Kingdom was not a very _hopeful_ place. Well, at least the doctors had hope for their business there.

Now back to Brinkman. Technically, the land is still a part of Hopeland Kingdom, but the royals like to treat it as a separate territory. This is so because all of the residents there—excluding one household and one particular person that will become important later—are females that used to be a part of Hopeland, but were "banished" to Brinkman for either pulling off or participating in an unacceptable crime not exactly worthy of execution. They are forbidden to ever step foot past the borderlines of Brinkman (yes, this included taking the ferry to Tartaunus) and should one be caught doing so, she would be publicly executed (the most common death for them is any kind of stoning).

The year 1200 A.D. may have changed the lands greatly now, but it was nothing compared to the domino-effect tragedy of 1218 A.D. for the county of Filindia.

This is their story.

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**Modern Geography to Take Note of**: As you can see, I did *not* use places that actually exist in England. Instead, I replaced real existing places and gave them my own names to give the setting more of an "alternate dimension" sort of feel since whatever events happened during the actual time in those places have been written over with this story. Here's a little key for your convenience:

Filindia = Essex (yes, this is a real county in England).

Hopeland = Maldon (Brinkman is simple on the slope mentioned to have been there in medieval times.)

Tartaunus = Colchester

Here's where the geographical history has been stretched a little: instead of a bunch of rivers (which I learned were there and Colchester is farther from Maldon than you think), Lake Doombreak is going to replace them as well as the Suffix territory that is seen in this medieval map of Colchester: However, we're not actually going to follow that map; it was simply a reference for your convenience.


	2. Important Past Events

**Warning**: Jumps around a lot as well as some mentioned sexual themes.

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Chapter One

_Important Past Events_

Gold, vibrant red and sapphire was the robe that danced with the wind as the woman ran for the shoreline of Lake Doombreak, the nearest body of water to the Kingdom of Tartaunus. In her arms, a cashew-shaped basket with a half cover. In the basket lied an infant wrapped in two blankets, having been conceived by the woman not even twelve hours ago. The women knew the day would come when she would be discovered—the signature heterochromia that distinguished a mage hard to overlook,—but she didn't think it would be so soon. She was only two days sixteen!

Upon reaching the murky waters, however, the woman knew her end could no longer be avoided and the departure with her only child evident. Taking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart, she shifted the basket to balance on her left arm and scooped up what she could of the long robe to kneel down on the wet, rocky edge of the lake. Running across her eyes with the sleeve on her right arm to wipe away the tears, the woman forced a small smile to break her solemn expression as she steadied the basket atop the dark surface of Lake Doombreak. However, as if sensing her dismay, the infant started to cry out, his wails breaking the silence of the settle waves.

"Hush now, child. This is how it has to be, for I cannot change fate." The woman brushed the small strands of honey blond hair out of the infant's face, her smile broadening when the infant ceased his incessant crying in favor of opening his startlingly mismatched eyes to stare at her, curious.

"You of all people will soon come to realize that, as you shall soon face the same fate one day. It is your destiny. I should like to hope that you'll at least live a little longer than I did." Her smile faltered as her voice cracked on the few words she spoke, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip to quench the trembling.

"Just promise me that you'll never forget this day, continue to love me until your eventual end, and use that love as a tool to ease the hatred for this land that you will most likely feel in the near future. Bless you, my sweet child, and remember—it's not their fault" she whispered over him before bending down and planting a small kiss on top of his pale forehead.

"I love you. Farewell, Solluxander _Captor_."

Shouts were heard not far from her position on the rocky edge, and she was quick to push the basket off into the water, breathing out a sigh of relief when the waves that had started to pick up since her arrival carried it off. At least he would be safe.

Though clueless, the baby lifted his little head and looked over at his mother through glazed, one sapphire and one reddish-brown eye as she was slashed across the back by an armored man's sword. She took an immediate fall to the ground face-first, her long honey blonde hair catching the wind around her during her descent.

The silver of the sword glinted underneath the sunlight that broke the gray sky and shown down upon the dying woman.

Ten years after that event, the Queen had faced her evident fate by the resistance in the Kingdom of Tartaunus. Even though it was a happier Kingdom now, the group convinced the public that she had to be overthrown due to some disturbing news the resistance had caught whiff of: Queen Meenah was partaking in sexual activities with the _female_ librarian of the castle's vast library. And it wasn't just sex for fun. The maids that had shared the information with the resistance informed them that she actually harbored romantic feelings for the woman named Aranea.

Disgusted and riled up, the citizens had rioted and refused to stop until the Queen's head was had, even going as far to storm the castle in order to have their wish met.

Deciding it was in the Kingdom's best interest, Queen Meenah stepped down from the throne. Looking down at the dirty faces of the crowd and worrying about their muddy shoes on the beautiful surface of her marble floor, the Queen turned her face away from them to address her dear, sweet sister Princess Feferi.

"Sister. I am officially stepping down from my place as Queen here, seeing as the public no longer has any need for me" she fixed the numerous angry expressions with a hateful glare before continuing on. "However, I refuse to let them obtain the throne, so I nominate you to take my place now. Carry on our Mother's legend!" she had shouted even as the resistance group made their way through the crowd and seized hold of both her arms, dragging her along through the now separating crowd to make way for them.

Even as Queen Meenah was fated to die now, her most loyal knight had chosen to protect her until the end. Dirk Strider did not die in vain, though, as his younger brother was greatly affected by his act of bravery and later vowed his life to the new Queen, even if it ended up being in the same way that Queen Meenah had gone down—he would stand by her until that judgment day.

Said new Queen—not even fourteen years of age—had been forced to remain in her place as the crowd of citizens had hollered on their way out the double, mahogany doors of the throne room; stunned.

The four golden rods on each end of the diamond and ruby crown looked dull as the headdress rested on top of the empty throne—awaiting its next use.

One night two years after Queen Feferi's abrupt coronation, the Kingdom experienced yet another tragedy: all the wooden-built houses and items would catch fire at any given moment. The only semi-rational explanation the nobles could conjure was that the wood-smiths, the wood nymph Nitrams, were the source of it all. So, deciding it best that the family be exterminated, the nobles got together with Queen Feferi to have a final say.

Although the Queen was not exactly for the irrational destruction of the only nymphs the county knew of, she could not disagree with the wild expressions of the resistance that had also come to the meeting, and the suffering that her citizens had been through as a result of the random fires. Though it was with much reluctance and later regret, the Queen "okayed" the charge on the Nitram household.

The only member that had been spared was the youngest of them all, Tavros at age thirteen, who was known for his kindness and generosity to all the citizens he helped whenever someone cried out for it and he was around. No: the resistance couldn't bear to destroy such pure innocence, so they allowed him to continue on living, even though his whole family had just eradicated before him.

It was the last words of his older brother—Rufio—that kept him from acting out on hatred:

"Keep on smilin' lil' bro, please."

Around that same time, a young boy had lost his older brother—the High Priest of Hopeland Kingdom—as well as his dear Father, who had done nothing but gave the public hope: preaching for free on God's will and how they only had to suffer for so long until they were to join him in the Holy Kingdom high in the sky.

Apparently, the King found no reason for a Priest—nor preacher—of any kind in his village, filling his people with sugar-coated lies is what he thought of them. No, they only needed a King to rule them and give them hope, not some silly peasant of a preacher. So, sending out the best of his subjects, the King had them detained—forever.

The youngest was left to strive for himself, the King seeing no reason to kill off an innocent. However, the King would have never guessed that it would be this same boy that would later cause his nobles such grief—including the nobles of the Kingdom of Tartaunus.

A year prior to these events, a young woman freshly picked off of the market had danced with her respected husband in their splendid home in the forest town of Brinkman, loving the peace that the otherwise hated land provided them with. Her satin, red dress spiraled around her as the man—twenty-four years—spun her in a circle with one finger, her Asian chime for laughter filling the warm abode with their own kind of music.

However, this happy moment was soon just a fleeting memory, as the man had passed away a year later. He had been ill even before he bought her dowry, but still he chose to respect her and refrained from any form of sexual contact with her beyond kissing. A noble man until death he was, even if he did leave the beautiful girl an incredibly young widow.

Unfortunately, the girl would face a greater peril than that, for the residents of Hopeland Kingdom had come across a great revelation a year later when the girl's miraculous witch doctor deeds had gotten around the main town: a witch was causing the extreme weather, and the wondrous witch doctor was their main suspect.

Cerulean blue ribbons fell to the floor as the nervous man untied them, the blue corset that the gorgeous woman of sixteen had worn attached to the rich satin skirt of her sapphire dress as a special gift for the anniversary known as their fiftieth get-together. The young woman had been seeing the noble man since she was fourteen, for the man had been greedy and during his time on the market, and couldn't decide between her and this other, beautiful blonde woman. In the end, he had chosen to legally uphold Cecilia, but met the blue-lipped mystery in secret whenever he could.

A mistress this ebony-haired and dangerous, blue bedroom eyed woman had been. That is, until they had dared to uphold their "anniversary get-together" in the man's own abode. It was a dumb move, and the noble knew it, but he didn't care: he just wanted to release himself into the mysterious woman atop the very sheets that he had with Cecilia, even if he had spoiled the woman with plenty of money to buy herself a similar if not exact bed cover. No, there was nothing like the idea of having two women on a man's personal bed.

Unfortunately for them, Cecelia had come home earlier than planned, and wandered on into his quarters. Normally she was not allowed to enter his personal quarters without his consent, however, the suspicious sounds coming from said room as she passed on by it worried her, so she barged in of her own free will.

Her scream had awoken the neighbors, who had immediately sent a page to get a guard afterward.

The mysterious woman was, of course, banished from Hopeland to Brinkman for her unforgiveable act, the man revealing everything to the guard; claiming how she had "come onto him" and "forced" him to "play" with her.

Though enraged and borderline pissed off, there was nothing the blue mystery could do to change her predicament, swaying the guard not an option when a man would only believe another man's word—especially that of a respectable noble.

Cursing his name, the mysterious lady was dragged out to the forest town of Brinkman that night without even so much as a second chance. She swore she would later murder that man if the opportunity ever presented itself to her.

Although the guards that banished her were cruel, the women of Brinkman had accepted her upon entrance once the guards had vanished down the trail to the ferry man, knowing full and well that whatever "deed" she did was man's fault somehow. They all gave her numerous goodies and led her to a nice home to stay in as a beginner's gift to "joining the club."

Maybe the town wasn't as bad as the main town of Hopeland had made it out to be.

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**Note**: The next chapter will not be available until August 28th. It is called "Everyone's Caste" and isn't nearly as jumpy as this chapter is. By this, I mean that it actually follows a storyline path and not just a bunch of past events jumbled together in detailed, mysterious explanations. It will also be much, much longer—I can promise you that much (uwu).


	3. Everyone's Caste

**A/N**: Yeah, I got bored and decided to write this early. Oh and there is some ooc-ness due to this particular time period not very _Homestuck_-character-friendly. By the way, I am not sorry for the length (x'D).

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Chapter Two

_Everyone's Caste_

"Your highness" a boy with dazzling blue eyes, and a mop of jet black hair bowed to Queen Feferi for a few minutes before unrolling the large scroll he had been holding since he arrived at the castle.

"Go on, Sir Egbert" the Queen responded and rested her right elbow on the armchair of the throne she sat upon, her painted lips quirked into a settle smile as she looked down on the goofy messenger. "What does Hopeland report _this_ time?" Though she would not admit it, the Queen was rather dissatisfied with the news feed lately and overall annoyed by the consistency of it all. The poor messenger had been traveling back-and-forth between the lands for several weeks now, reading off what was technically the same thing occurring but worded different.

The messenger—Johnathan Egbert—audibly cleared his throat, and only then did he continue onward. "Dearest Feferi, I have received your notice on the assassination occurring in your Kingdom and assure you that I am doing my best to locate the witch that is responsible for this."

"Wait a minute," the Queen held up her hand, cutting John off so that she could interject. "The King thinks a _witch_ is murdering the nobles? How does he figure that now? I thought we had decided it was a lone male assassin harboring a heavy load of hate for anyone of nobility?"

"Permission to continue on, your highness" was all John could think to say that was appropriate in the presence of her majesty. Though she had expected such an answer, Feferi still sighed in aggravation.

"Go on" she said again, waving her right hand to the right to symbolize he had free will to speak.

"Now I am aware that this bit of news may confuse you, but I assure you that was most definitely the work of a witch, as my consorts saw the geometric proof haggardly written on the wooden floor beneath the body of Sir Michaelis and his wife." The Queen gasped at this discovery, but pursed her lips and remained silent so that John could finish the entire script. "I know that it will be hard for you to accept this knowledge, as I am just barely keeping it together myself from it, fighting a never-ending internal rage over all the turmoil this witch has caused Hopeland Kingdom, but I must request that you cease your interference in this case and let the people of Hopeland solve the problem—" the Queen rolled her eyes at that. "For it is my Kingdom that shelters the witch and therefore, my duty to extirpate her. Though I look forward to your next response, I ask that it include your official agreement to step down from this matter and allow me to carry my own weight. Signed, His Majesty. P.S., shan't any other unfortunate assassination occur over in your Kingdom, I apologize in advance, but please refrain from ever bringing it up to me if it does happen." John rolled up the scroll and placed it back into the cloth roll on his bag, then pulled out one of his blank scrolls (he had the location of them memorized by now) as well as his quill and ink bottle from the satchel he wore around his waist. "Whenever you wish to proceed with recording the response, your highness."

"You know, it _reely_ gets my blood boiling that he thinks he can order me around like that. I am a Queen, for Christ's sakes!" the young Queen shouted in her fit of anger and made a violent shake of her head, the beaded tassels at the ends of the golden rods of her headdress following with the vicious motion. However, her face only grew paler when she realized that John had dipped his quill and was had his hand poised to write. "Oh for crying out loud—don't glubbin' write that, fish!"

At first, the messenger had looked dumbfounded until he realized that he hadn't really taken note of the dialect the Queen had been speaking in. It was far from her "writing voice." "Oh, right; my apologies, your highness!" he bent down for a rather stiff bow and didn't rise until she said so. After that, he dipped his quill again just in case it had dried over the course of their small talk, and got ready to record her exact words. Being a scribe was quite a difficult job in his opinion. John looked up at his Queen with twinkling blue eyes and nodded his head once.

"Dear King Ampora, I have received word of your response to my last scroll safely by my loyal subject, Sir Johnathan Egbert. If you do not receive this by that very person, then this is a false message. Then again, I would like to think that a thief would be smart enough to skip over that line, so feel free to completely disregard it _Sir Egbert_. Meaning I want you to scratch that last bit or ignore it when you read this to the King. Anyways, I will adhere to your request for my concession, but in turn I ask that you no longer report to me on your Kingdom's series of unfortunate events, nor request for the help of my troops if the hunt gets too tough for you to handle—do we have an agreement now? Good. I pray that the witch trials go on _swimmingly_ for you, though, and hope that your skies _reely_ do clear up once the witch is eradicated. I bid you good day now, King Opheacus, and eagerly await your next verbal letter myself" the Queen finished up rather quick and waited until the resounding scratching had ceased before reminding John to sign her name. The messenger then bowed to her with the usual "your highness" before turning around to depart for the second time that day.

"And make sure you come back before dusk so that you can read it to me immediately!" the Queen had shouted out to him before he vanished outside the double mahogany doors, then sunk down in the hard seat of her throne.

Although John had heard full and well what she said, he knew that what she really meant was that he got back before her bedtime so that he could scribe the day's diary entry, which was always a pain in his rear. If women were allowed to learn the written word, his job would have been so much easier. Then again, he wouldn't even _have_ a job in the first place if that had been so.

Nodding to the Queen's closest knight, Davidson Strider, Johnathan Egbert jogged across the wooden bridge that had still been set down over the alligator-ridden river ditch—that helped to protect the castle—since he had entered. The day had only still just begun for him (even though it was currently midday), and already he was exhausted to the core.

Passing by the many citizens wandering about the busy brick road, John gave curt nods to those that paid attention to him until he reached his favorite destination lately: the ferry man's post. His chapped lips quirked up into a wide grin when he saw the familiar blonde bob of the doctor, and he waved his hand in front of her face until she took notice of his sudden presence. Of course, the woman could never have dreamed of upholding her medicinal job without pretending to be male, having had to cut her hair short and bind her blossoming bosom so that she was flat enough to get away with it. Of course, John didn't know her real gender at first, but he was a man of good instinct and could tell when someone feigned the opposite gender over time (though he still had yet to meet a man pretending to be a woman, which made no sense to try in a world where man thrived and the majority of women suffered).

"Hey there! Busy, too?" Unfortunately, John lacked knowledge of her given name—or any name, really—so he had to refrain from using any kind of formal greeting when around her. This also included the ferry man, who was nearing the deck as John greeted his daily ferry-riding friend.

"Good day to you, too, friend. Has your day already begun or no?" the doctor turned her head and spoke in the best male voice she could muster. John hated it when she spoke in that tone around him, but he figured that it was better to take precautions to one's surroundings before letting loose.

"Unfortunately, yes it has" his broad smile faltered at the memory of his first meeting with the King that day, but it rose again when he thought about the reward he would be receiving at the end of the day. That was it—the thought of getting paid was what kept him going nowadays. "And it's not nearly over, either."

Their conversation was cut short when the obese noble had waddled on past them, cursing under his breath about the absurdity of the bumpy ride that he, a noble, had just faced. "Uh, hey there, you two. Uh, H-Hopeland?" the ferry man called out to them, his voice squeaking at the end of his question like it normally did.

"Yeah—"

"Have you ever known me to go to Brinkman now, ferry man?" the doctor cut John off with and boarded the long wooden boat before him, claiming "ladies first." John was about to remind her that she was no lady in her disguise, but decided he better not and boarded on after her in silence.

"So, uh, how have you two—been?" the ferry man broke the silence when the boat was reaching the halfway point, preferring to talk when facing the thick fog rather than suffer it quietly.

"Oh you know—the usual running back-and-forth between the Kingdoms. Doesn't pay nearly as much as most jobs but eh, what can I do to change it now after doing it for so many years?" John was the first to speak out, and the ferry man turned his head around to reveal his usual banana-shaped smile. It was the only feature of his that ever showed underneath the large, dark hood he wore on a daily basis. Creepy, yes, but John had no room nor reason to judge the man for it.

"That sucks, I guess." The ferry man could think of no other appropriate response to John's sarcastic comment. John didn't seem to mind, though, and just sat still in his seat, quiet as the snow that seldom fell in their county.

"As for myself, business has been booming as always. Got a couple cases over in Hopeland, but that shouldn't come as a shock to you, ferry man" the blonde-bobbed doctor eventually responded with her own inquiry, finding the new silence unbearable. "The people catch all kinds of things over there; have to wear my face mask for protection when I work or even wander around. Though it always seems to be disease-safe around the baker's. You should stop there sometime, ferry man—he has some delicious pastries, if I do say so myself…" the doctor continued to babble on until they were only a few minutes away from Hopeland's ferry port, and only then did she put on her game face.

"By the way, what shall I call you two? I mean, we've only been riding together for two years or so now, have we not? I would like to at least know your last names."

"Ah, but it is the last name that is the most important, uh, isn't it?" the ferry man responded in an instant, a slight frown on his dainty features.

"I do not think so, ferry man. Besides, my first name is too precious to me to give out" the doctor responded to him, giving John no room to put his two cents in.

"Well, I don't really care about hiding names so you two can call me Sir Egbert if you want. It's what the Queen calls me, and so does Knight Strider so you two might as well do the same." John burst out before the ferry man could respond again, though he appeared a little too excited to share as a result.

"Doctor Lalonde is fine, then."

"Uh, uh…" the ferry man pulled up to the port and looked back at them with an apologetic smile. "Guess I'll, uh, tell you when you two return later?" The messenger and doctor shared a look with one another before eventually nodding to the ferry man and exiting the boat together, ignoring the comments they received from the impatient nobles that were waiting to ride over to the Kingdom of Tartaunus for God-only-knew what.

Though they had walked for quite some time together (in silence, of course), the two had split up when passing up Hopeland's best baker's tent, as Doctor Lalonde had chosen to approach the thick cloth set-up and purchase her favorite pastry.

John pulled the tight black clothing—that hung over his blouse—over his mouth and nose for protection from the diseases that permeated the air, gripped the straps over his shoulders to his scroll-holding pack, and set off down the brick road to the miles-away castle.

"Good day to you, too, Ma'am. How may I help you today? Cream-puff special?" the baker fixed the doctor with his signature lazy smile, moving his hand above his display as means of showing it off. "Or would you like to try one of my mini-pies, popular with the ladies."

"Huh," the doctor shook her head with the slightest smile on her pale face. "I still don't know how you can tell, but you're always able to see through my disguises. Cream puff please."

"As expected," the baker clicked his tongue, and then winked at her upon handing her a few wrapped cream puffs. "Quarter of a Euro, _please_" he tilted his head at her and waggled his brows, making her laugh aloud as she retrieved the cent from the small pouch at her side.

"Always manage to make me laugh, too. Hope you have a good one, baker" the doctor picked up the wrapped pastries, and only then placed the cent in the center of the man's moonlight palm. They exchanged friendly smiles with one another until the doctor shuffled on through the crowd to get to her first job, and the baker a new customer to distract him.

Not far from the baker's tent, a girl with ratted black hair and crudely-made circular glasses played beautiful music from her precious nickel flute, a small smile painted on her ivory features and jade green eyes shining with delight as she swayed her hips to the free-fall of the notes she let loose; in her own world. However, she was not completely detached from the world, and would shoot casual glances at the baker, watching his actions as closely as she could.

Though he pretended not to notice, the baker knew full and well of the flute-playing girl's glances, but would only humor her with a look every so often, not wanting to appear suspicious to his customers.

However, the girl did not only play around the baker's tent, for she liked to follow along the brick road, cheering the solemn citizens up the best she could. While she could not fix the gray sky above her that was the major reason for the gloom of the city folk, she could at least share her carefree spirit with them through song and ease their sorrows for the moment, their closed eyes and overall relaxed expressions fueling her as well. So, dancing along then, the girl stopped in front of a tent some feet away from the baker's. Peering inside the pulled-back flap of the thick cloth while still managing to play the right notes, the girl nodded her head at the blacksmith. The tall, burly dark-skinned man had ceased pounding his stone hammer on top of the red-hot metal of his current sword commission, expression unreadable and covered in sweat just like the front of his shirt. Choosing to move on from there, the girl backed up and turned around to head back along the same way. After all, ogling the baker was fun! Unfortunately, a certain female thief had stolen her show by snatching up one of his signature mini pies and running elsewhere, the baker hot on her trail in a heartbeat.

At least he had her to watch his stand for him.

Moving as fast as her feet could take her through the trees, a woman with long ebony hair held back by a rubber band and dressed in peasant garb clutched onto the pastry she had oh-so-easily stolen. Just as easily as she had captured the little delight, however, the baker had caught up to her and pinned her against one of the many trees of the otherwise forbidden forest. Considering they had crossed the Brinkman borderline meant that the woman was most likely a part of the female population. Which also meant she had been banished for some unacceptable deed. Though a little horrifying to take into consideration, the baker wasn't necessarily all that good either, as the citizens of Hopeland seemed to think he was.

Holding out his hand to her, the baker offered the thief a more defined smile—though it didn't reach his eyes—and waited for the pastry to be given back to him.

"Damn you're good," the thief looked him up and down as she spoke, still clutching onto the little pie.

"And you're a thief. You know," the baker leaned down closer so that his face was only inches away from the thief's, his hot breath blowing out onto the woman's nose, and she wrinkled it as an immediate response. "If you were that desperate, you could have just _motherfuckin'_ asked for it for free, and I would have been more than happy to oblige."

Pushing the baker back so that she wasn't so constricted, the woman made a dry-sounding chuckle before throwing the pie down on the ground. "Yeah, well, that kind of takes the _fun_ and _thrill_ I get out of the thievery now, doesn't it?" The woman turned up her nose at him before stomping off to her large house in the forest town called Brinkman, lifting her middle finger high into the air in hopes that the baker would see it even as she walked away.

The baker did see the finger, and only smirked at the humorous display as he wandered back down to his little baker business in Hopeland Kingdom, hoping that the witch had gotten the hint to watch it for him.

Upon reaching her "humble abode," the woman stripped of the hideous garb she had adorned to better conceal her appearance in case of a possible recognition. She then wandered on into her personal bedroom and changed into the sapphire blue silk dress she had set on the bed prior to her thieving event. Once that was done, the woman, walked about the house with her hands behind her back, tying the ribbon on the corset top of the dress. However, movement not far from outside the window she faced had caught her immediate attention. Walking closer to get a better view, the woman narrowed her eyes and scoffed in disgust when she realized who it was.

Black as night truffles of hair billowing around her due to the pick-up of the wind, a young porcelain doll of a woman had knelt down before a small headstone in the "backyard" of her house. Moving the ruffles of scarlet aside so as not to dirty her dress, the woman set the bouquet of flowers she had gathered from down the slope where the Hopeland and Brinkman borderline was in front of the tombstone, whispering sweet nothings to her late husband in hopes that he might hear her on the other side.

The wind picked up then, blowing some fallen leaves around her in a sort of tornado-like twist. Her ruby red-painted lips curled up into an innocent smile at the settle movement, believing it was a sign from the dead that her words had been heard and were appreciated. However, a swift movement among the trees not so far-off from her yard had her standing up, for she had been expecting the figure to appear. If only she could catch her.

Said mysterious figure had made it to her small hut deep within the forest town of Brinkman, free of any followers. She walked up to the front porch, the old grey hound lowering his lifted wrinkled ear that had been listening for any non-recognizable footsteps and stared on at the girl with half-lidded eyes. Bending over to pat the old hound's head as a means of affection, the girl laughed at his floppy ears before looking up at the dangling shrunken heads from the porch's awning in disdain, wondering when her time would come and how she would pass on into the next life.

Ah well—no need to worry just yet. As long as the Kingdom went on believing that the widow was the witch, she was safe. And her rituals would go on undisturbed until she got what she wanted: peace. Stepping onto the porch now, she dipped her free hand into the large clay vase next to the door in order to gather some salt, then sprinkled it in a line along the door crack behind her after she entered the hut. Only then did she turn around and take a big whiff of the air, the scent of oak tree, sage, and multiple spices filling her nostrils and ultimately cleansing her soul. Exhaling slowly, the girl closed her eyes and took a few moments to connect with the spiritual energy of the forest outside the safety of her hut. After that, the girl allowed her eyelids to literally snap open before getting down to "ritual" business. Picking up some sage, the girl wandered out to her backyard to start the fire and retrieve the little gift that Jameson was supposed to capture for her while she was away on flute duty.

A little while later when she had gotten the fire started and singed the tips of the bundled sage for some necessary cleansing, the girl heard Jameson's call to signify when the baker was near-by. Smiling now, the girl went about with the cleansing ceremony and waited patiently for the baker to step foot out from his hiding place in the woods. Though she appreciated his disturbing ability to blend in with the shadows, it worried her sometimes when she lacked knowledge of his exact location and when he was to pop out, potentially frightening the crap out of her.

The witch felt a lot better when the baker did make himself known, the light of the fire illuminating his tall and lanky form, as well as his ridiculously unruly, puffy mess he called "curls." Clad in his nightfall leather outfit he claimed his disguise for whenever he went out to see the witch and aid her in her rituals, the baker placed his hands on his hips and fixed the witch with his serious business expression.

"Can we just get this done and _motherfuckin'_ over with all _motherfuckin'_ ready, or do I have to all up and _motherfuckin'_ stand here and stare at the miraculous flame of the Messiahs for ten minutes while you _motherfuckin'_ 'cleanse my soul?'" The baker tapped his pointed boot in an impatient manner, waiting for her to run the sage over him his body.

Though she was a little annoyed by his impatience, the girl walked over and made quick to cleanse him, too excited to go about the ritual to care all that much about the baker's rude behavior (when compared to his friendly atmosphere to his customers in the morning when he was selling goods).

Once the ritual was completed and the rabbit's blood used as their sacrifice, the baker exchanged farewells with the witch and headed back down the hill. Dancing among the shadows as he did, no one could ever trace him when he was in the groove—not one soul. When he had reached the back of his cottage-like house (he had taken the back ways of the Hopeland half of the forest to get there), he caught sight of the investigator looking to nab some poor souls that were up and out after curfew, and ducked inside his house through the back door. If he had been caught, he would have been stuck spending jail time in the basement cells of Hopeland Kingdom's castle, which was a huge no-no for him being of the respectable baker status he was. Plus, the investigator hated his guts and would have _loved_ to see his pretty face behind rusty bars. Of course, he equally hated her just as much and would have her detained had he been given the opportunity to, but so far there was no such luck so he was better off sticking to the shadows and ignoring her existence in general.

The investigator, a small woman with crazy and short orange-red locks, didn't exactly like her job. Sure, it was kind of catlike, but walking around at night and looking for late-nighters and teenage goofballs was far from her ideal career. Driving the carriage was a hell of a lot better than that, actually. Stopping in her tracks, the woman piqued her hearing and narrowed her hazel eyes at the sound of the violin that carried on into the otherwise soundless night. She was going to catch that pesky violin player one of these days, oh yes she would—

"Hey! Watch where you're going, God damn woman of Eve!" a man just as short as she had bumped into her then, as if realizing his mistake for making his presence known to the investigator of all people, dashed off into the night, coated head-to-toe in black clothing. "F-fuck! Don't follow me now, I mean it!"

However fast as she was, the investigator could not catch up to the short man and pursed her lips in anger, a low growl escaping her. She could have had someone! Swiveling on her heels then, the woman decided to carry on back to her own home, turning in for the night.

The short man had not given up chase, though, and ran straight for the ferry dock, thankful that it was one of the ferry man's late nights. Though at first the sound of a violin had stopped him dead in his tracks, when the short assassin had caught side of the phantom-masked and cloaked figure that snuck on past the assassin like a cold breeze, the angry man had forced his feet to carry him onward and practically dove on into the ferry boat, surprising the two passengers as well as the ferry man himself.

"Woah there, uh, budd—"

"To Tartaunus—now! And don't you dare fucking delay either, you monkey-faced Charon!" the short man had cut the ferry man off and stood up, wiping at his scratched nose from his hard landing. The other two passengers just sat in silence, sharing only one quick glance between them.

"O-okay. These two were just, uh, g-going there as well, heh" the ferry man responded and moved the long oar to get the boat going. The short man sat down on the first bench of the three total, cursing himself under his breath something along the lines of "stupid fuckass" like a personal mantra.

Upon arrival to the Kingdom of Tartaunus' port, the assassin made a mad dash for the dock, throwing his fare money at the ferry man in a hurry as he ran. Some of the coins had fallen into the water and were not retrievable.

Patting him on the shoulder, John offered him one of his goofy grins with a thumbs-up as he handed the ferry man his fare. "Don't worry about it, Nitram—I'm sure he won't be back anytime soon with the way he was running, haha!"

"To be honest, Sir Egbert, that just worries me even more for his safety" Doctor Lalonde spoke out as John exited the ship and handed the ferry hand her fare money. "I think he just might be back once he realizes just who you are, Sir Egbert."

"Ah no, you think?" John's broad smile faltered at that thought.

"Did I not just say that? Men can be so dense sometimes…"

"Hey!" the ferry man shouted over at the doctor, a little offended by her comment.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean you, sweetie. You're far better than most men I've met, and I've met a lot of men." The doctor waved the ferry man good-bye and only turned around when she was sure he couldn't see her anymore. Now she could return to her home and crash for the night, beat from the hard day's work she had faced.

As the messenger walked on ahead of the doctor, however, he was little worried to have caught sight of the black clothed man running off to noble territory. So he did what someone of his position only could do: he told Sir Strider. Unfortunately, Sir Strider saw as some kind of misunderstood circumstance and waved it off, telling John he was "delusional" and needed to "get some rest" but first "report back to the Queen."

Where did the short man run off to now? The house of the duke of Tartaunus, of course. Why not aim high? Too bad for him the duchess had to wheedle her way on out of it, and a wild goose chase had arisen as she ran off in the direction of the castle, knowing full and well that she would definitely be safe there. While the duchess had managed to get away with her life, begging to Sir Strider to let her in, the duke did not and passed away rather painfully as he lied on the lush center room rug back in the duchess' household.

She was noble-less as well as penniless now, and had no other option but to seek residence with the Queen. Possibly forever. Fortunately, some good did come out of it since she was able to accurately describe the basic outline of the mysterious assassin. The Queen was pleased to learn that her hypothesis had been correct, and that the assassin was indeed a vengeful man and not some second-rate witch.

The duchess was soon made the Queen's personal tailor after she had shared of her only craftsmanship, and was to share a room with the Kingdom's seer, whom the duchess hadn't even known existed before until the unfortunate event that befell her. She was an interesting woman of around the same height at the duchess, though her hair was a light brown compared to the duchess' midnight spikey bob, and her hair was almost shoulder-length. And blind, the duchess couldn't forget about that obvious trait that sometimes inconvenienced her when she was on duty and the seer couldn't find the way to the bathroom.

The following day, the witch had awoken to Jameson's affectionate cleansing of her whole face…with his saliva. Disgusted, the witch had gathered what little self-cleaning materials she owned and headed down for the river downslope past the Hopeland border. When she reached said river, however, she heard an unfamiliar musical tune. It was coming from some unknown area to her near the beginning of the forest.

Curious, the witch left her items in a rotting spot of a tree for the time being and ventured off, following the mirthful music the best she could. Eventually, she had happened upon what looked to be some old fallen ruin structure covered in moss. There were only two noticeable stones left and between them…was a man? She couldn't really tell from the distance she was standing at behind a tree, but she could definitely make out the instrument-playing forest animals. Yeah, that wasn't odd at all.

Snaking on through the tree as swiftly as possible for her, the witch had stopped at the back end of one of the two stone hedges (the right one from where the man stood between them), and peered out from behind the back edge of it. Yep, the dancing figure was definitely a man from what she could tell. Well, a really lanky one (lankier than the baker; and that was saying something), but the figure was still a man. Though she couldn't quite make out his face, for he was moving too fast and with such vigor that she could swear he knew of her presence and was concealing his face from her view on purpose. What did he have to hide that she didn't?

Then the man stood still and tall, and the witch could make out now that the man had been dancing in front of a…heap of dirt. That didn't make any sense, unless he buried—oh wait, _now_ she noticed the makeshift cross and sage burning on top of the pile. Wait a minute, he used _sage_?!

"You can come out now, witch."


	4. The Witch Hunt Fail

**Chapter Summary**: Things start to get spicey as the Hopeland King refuses to believe that a man alone murdered his nobles, at least not without the aid of a witch. So he then sends out a group of knights to rid of the Kingdom's only witch suspect. Unfortunately for the knights, the witch manages to escape and moves on elsewhere.

* * *

Chapter Three

_The Witch Hunt Fail_

"How did you…?" the witch's jade green eyes had widened in shock at the mysterious man's words, and she stumbled back on her right foot. The only person beside herself that knew of her true identity was the baker, and he wouldn't dare tell someone else. Especially not some thin-clothed stranger dancing over a grave. Nevertheless, the witch chose to brave the mysterious man if he tried to attack her and walked away from the safety of the ruins' edge. "Never mind that now—what are you doing dancing over a grave and riling up the forest animals?" Instead of answering her right away, the man stepped over the heap of dirt and walked around the back of the second stone hedge. Alarmed, the witch jumped backward a few feet and watched for the man to reappear from behind the end of the other stone hedge, poised to attack her. However, this never happened.

"Can you trust me, Witch?" called the mysterious man from somewhere in front of the stone hedges. Daring to peer out again, the witch returned to her previous post and breathed a sigh of relief when the man came into sight. He was standing behind the makeshift cross of the grave now, except he had a thick robe of gold, ruby and sapphire colors on; a heavy hood addition was also worn to conceal his facial features, which only confirmed the witch's hypothesis that he had something to hide.

"If I said yes would you tell me who you are, poltergeist?" Okay, he probably wasn't a poltergeist, but the label he kept referring to her as had started to grate on her nerves and she wanted to throw some kind of comeback at him. If he struck out at her with a rude comment, the witch would make fun of the "poltergeist's" obvious lisp that she would have missed had his last question not been ringing on in her head over and over again.

The sound of his laughter echoing against the stone hedges, the man moved away from the makeshift cross and disappeared from the witch's line of sight since he had walked past the right stone hedge from where she stood in between the two. Worried she'd lose him, the witch headed past the right hedge and inclined her head to see where the man was headed.

However, the man was nowhere to be found.

No time to stop for a proper breakfast or else he'd miss the ferry, Johnathan Egbert pushed past all kinds of citizens that were crowding the market street near the ferry port.

"So sorry, Ma'am!" he had called out to one particular woman who shot him quite the look, pulling her young boy aside and whispering something to him. Oh well, John couldn't afford to waste time apologizing to every person he bumped into. They should understand the minute they see the many scrolls sticking out of his pack, after all. Inconsiderate peasants, the lot of them.

Reaching his second destination for the day (which happened to always be the ferry dock), John nodded to the familiar blonde bobbed woman that stood in front of him. "Guess who?" he said with a barely audible laugh, waving his hands in front of the doctor's face from his stance behind her.

"I don't have to guess when your ink-stained hands are the only thing in sight" the doctor responded in her false falsetto, a small smile gracing her features as she moved her head to look behind her at the silly messenger. He flashed her a wide grin in an instant, revealing his buck teeth. The messenger then walked around the woman, turned around to face her, outstretched his arms on either side of him, and walked backwards down the wooden boards of the dock.

"Hey, at least that means I'm doing my job! What about you, Doctor Lalonde? Save any lives?" John stopped when he was teetering off the edge of the dock and let his hands fall back to his side with a loud smack against his thighs. "How was your night, doctor—filled with adventures?"

There the messenger went off about adventures again, thought the doctor. He should really just invest in an adventure of his own already to get the idea out of his head. Once he realized what risks they entailed, he'd soon move on from the topic.

"First of all, you should know how severe some cases are that I take up. As usual, many die in my care and there is nothing I can do about it. At least I tried, is all I can say to the relatives when they blame me for their loss. On a happier note, I did help a young girl over in Hopeland Kingdom yesterday that had been bleeding profusely from a wound, and she recovering rather remarkably now. How about you share the latest political issue with me now, Sir Egbert" the doctor had gradually walked up to the messenger during her response until she was three inches in front of him. The messenger waggled his brows at her serious face before swiveling on his heels to face the dark waters.

Taking in a deep breath, the messenger closed his blue eyes and relished in the cool touch of the soft breeze against his skin. "And _you_ should know that I am forbidden to reveal the content of the scrolls to anyone other than who is meant to hear the scripted word. Anyways—here comes our best friend the ferry man!" John laughed and looked back at the doctor with glistening blue eyes. Though he went through some serious verbal treatment from the royals when he was merely a messenger, the boy always managed a smile that he wore proudly in front of them. He refused to let the royals get his spirit down.

"Well if it isn't my, uh, favorite two people…!" The large ferry had come to a halt in front of John, the side of it against the end of the wooden dock and the ferry man smiling over at them like any other given day. "Bright today, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, ferry man." The doctor had, once again, beat John to entering the boat first even though he was literally right in front of it. Shaking his head at her rude gesture, John forced any snide remark he would have liked to have said to her at that moment with a goofy grin.

"Shame it isn't so over at Hopeland Kindom though" John commented on their conversation as he carefully stepped on into the boat, then wandered over to the first bench to sit next to the doctor. "But I like getting the chance to wear my cool mask over my face, haha!" The doctor shook her head at John's childish remark, though she couldn't say she disliked that side of the messenger; it brought some joy to her depressing life.

"So, uh, Hopeland it is. Uhhh, any objections?" the ferry man had hiccupped in the middle of the word "objection," and was mildly embarrassed about it. "S-sorry."

"What are you apologizing for, ferry man? And to Hopeland it is, as usual" Doctor Lalonde lifted her head and looked on at the hooded man with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry! I mean, not sorry? Heh heh." The ferry man shifted the long oar and off the boat went, the doctor sighing at the ferry man's response while the messenger next to her hummed a nonsensical tune. Well, whatever made him happy.

"In any case, how was your late night on the job, ferry man?" the doctor asked, feeling the need to fill in the growing awkward silence.

"It was, uh, okay I guess…but always kind of, er, scary." By "scary," he meant the suspicious that characters that often boarded his ferry Tuesday and Thursday nights when he stayed out past midnight. Actually, that night in particular had been a little too frightening for him—especially after he flipped through the book the shady man left behind.

_The night had been cool as usual, and a light breeze could just barely be made out against the tan skin beneath the ferry man's thick hood. The jubilant man had dropped the messenger and doctor off a few minutes ago, and was just about to sail off when a familiar hoarse voice shouted after him. He sounded out of breath as well as appeared to be in a hurry to escape Tartaunus. So he forced the long boat to curve backward, wondering what was freaking the man out._

"_Hello there, Sir. A-are you alright?" the ferry man asked the small male once he had reached the boat. "Uh, where to?"_

"_No time for that just go—now!" the short man yelled at the ferry man as he swung his body over the edge rim of the boat, sliding onto the first bench with reddened cheeks and covered head-to-toe in black clothing. There were two sickles in his hand and the right one was suspiciously red. The ferry man did not question him any further._

"_U-uuuuhhh, I kind of need to…know the location."_

"_Brinkman, God! Fucking hurry up man!"_

"_O-okay, S-sir!" And the ferry man did exactly that, hurried it along the dark waters of Lake Doombreak. The ride was silent, save for the heavy breathing of the short man behind him, but the ferry man could hear his own heart pounding in his ears from fear that the man might try to attack him just for being witness to his…murder weapons? The only other sound was a nail-scratching-on-parchment resonance around him, echoing off of the waters and grating on the ferry man's nerves. Just what was the short man behind him doing? The ferry man didn't dare look, but he figured it out when the boat had stopped in front of the dim Brinkman port light and the man jumped right off of the boat. He didn't even pay the fare! However, he did leave a little something behind: a black leather-bound packet of parchment on the bench. The short man was in such a hurry that he must have forgotten all about it!_

_Picking up the book now, the ferry man lifted his head and called out to the short man—but he had already crossed out of ear shot._

"Any event in particular bother you last night?" The ferry man snapped out of his reverie when the doctor spoke out again, worry written on her face since the ferry man had gone silent for a while. "You can always tell me, ferry man."

"Here we go with your therapy sessions again..."

"Oh keep quiet, Sir Egbert. You know I only want to help people" the doctor bonked her hand atop the messenger's head, and he laughed at her serious playfulness.

"Well there was a, um, short angry man that showed up after you both left. He, uh, left a book behind…I added it to my, er, collection over there" the ferry man looked behind him in favor of pointing toward his fantasy book collection he carried with him in case of a lack of passengers.

"Oh yeah, I had nearly forgotten about that little stack you have going on over there," the doctor glanced down at the pile behind the third and last bench underneath the half wooden hood of the boat (for rainy days and complaining nobles).

"It uh, used to be bigger. People like to steal from me…they're sneaky. Especially the, uh, noble women who secretly read." The ferry man would never forget about the green duchess that had made do with one of his books. Too bad for her it was the most boring one.

"So I've heard…anyways, it looks like we're here!" The doctor stood up as the boat neared the wooden dock. John soon joined her with an unbreakable smile even as he pulled the black mask over his mouth and nose. "I shall be seeing you later tonight, and hopefully not past curfew this time. I sincerely apologize for that, ferry man."

"O-oh no need! It was my late night, anyways!" the ferry man forced the long boat to a halt and flashed them his signature smile.

"Heh, bye!" the messenger waved back at him when the doctor had stepped onto the dock, then followed after her. The future passengers that had been waiting bye the bell shook their heads at the two, finding it odd that they actually spoke to the ferry man.

As the ferry man pulled away, the messenger and doctor wandered on down the brick road toward the market area. It was easier for John to reach the castle, passing the multitude of business stands. This time, however, he chose to stop with Doctor Lalonde at the baker's stand since he had missed breakfast that morning.

"Good day, baker. The usual for me, and I don't know about my friend here, but I'm sure he'd love to try your excellent bread" the doctor greeted the baker in a false falsetto (as usual).

"H-hey! I can order for myself!" the messenger dropped his jaw at the doctor's remark, but was aware that it was only a playful inquiry and left it at that. "Yeah, I'll try a slice of your signature bread and maybe a milk bottle."

"Ah, first of the day to want a bottle of milk! You do they come pretty pricey now, right, Sir?" the baker said while wrapping up a couple of cream puffs for the doctor, looking at John with a raised black brow. They were only expensive because he had to go out of his way to obtain them from the farmer a mile away from his personal abode.

"That's fine!" the messenger flashed him a toothy grin and bounced on his toes, his hunger almost taking over him. He could only imagine what it was like to be a starving peasant, ravenous and battling delirium.

"That'll be a quarter of a Euro as usual, Ma'am" the baker winked at her as she produced her cent to pay him; the messenger confused at how he knew her true identity.

"Wha…?" the messenger started, but was completely ignored and had to wait for the baker to help a new customer before he was given what he requested, the doctor leaving his side without saying good-bye. Rude.

"Did I not jus' tell 'er ta stay out a' the matter a' the assassinations?! Gah! Woman never listens, honestly!" A muscular man covered head-to-toe in gold jewelry as well as violet armor glared down at the messenger. He was quite the intimidating character, and John loathed it when he yelled at him. He was only the messenger! "First a' all, tell 'er ta stop meddlin' an' drop it."

"Would you like that to be recorded as your exact words, you majesty?" It took all of John's willpower to refrain from squeaking under the man's menacing stare.

"No, fool! Figure it out! Anyways, yer ta also tell 'er that the witch suspect is ta be finished once an' for all tonight, an' I ain't hearin' nothin' else. It's obvious that she had a hand in it, and I'm sick a' havin' my men investigatin' when it's so blatantly obvious that that there widow of Brinkman is ta one responsible. Now get out of my face, mouse!" the King bellowed out and then laughed in triumph when the messenger cringed, scrambled, and dashed toward the door after bowing to him.

"An' don't forget ta inform the public, either! I want them stormin' 'er place tonight before curfew!"

Nightfall had come quicker than the lady in red would have liked, and she found herself stuck in the middle of the pitch black forest. She thought she had been walking forever when she finally started to recognize her surroundings, the blue exotic woman's home clear as day to her. Red-painted lips turned up into a smile, the widow picked up the pace, pushing stray branches aside on her way.

It was the bright orange and yellow colors that broke the black of the night that had her stopping in her tracks. That was her home on fire! There were shouts from men, cruel and distasteful as they cracked jokes about her witch doctor career. From what she gathered about the event, they had come to kill her.

"Hey, did you hear something chap?"

Heart pounding in her ears, the widow turned on her black flats' heels, running on past the dark trees that looked on at her like demons. Her silky red dress fluttered behind her and she snapped so many twigs but she didn't care; she had to get out of there as fast as she could, and pray that she make it out of the Kingdom alive. She had been running so fast that she forgot the forest was on a slope, and stumbled over a rock she had stubbed her toe on even through her shoe. Hitting the Earth hard, she groaned and rolled on over to lay on her back, her breath coming out in short pants and fogging up above her in the cold night air. Swallowing a huge gulp of air, the widow forced herself to sit back up, though her body ached. Standing now, she wobbled on her feet before she picked up into a run again, male voices not far from behind her. How long had they been following her?!

Dim light not far from her reach now, the widow called out to the ferry boat—it was starting to move away from the port! Running as fast as her skinny out-of-shape body allowed, the widow started waving her hands about in the air and even whistling to get his attention. The two passengers on his boat were the ones that noticed her emergency tactics, and she stopped in front of the bell that hung on a stand in case the ferry man was nearby but not close enough. She wrung the bell even though it was clear that the two passengers were persuading the ferry man to turn around. The widow could never be too careful.

Moving backward in order to effectively pull up against the dock against, the ferry boat rubbed up against the wood and creaked. "Heh heh, sorry about that Ma'am."

Easing herself over the edge and into the large boat, the widow nodded at the hooded man with a small smile, though her eyebrows were creased with worry. Men's shouts could be heard from the woods. She sat down on the front bench, but with good distance between her and the other two passengers. "I don't suppose you could be quick to leave. I am in a hurry, if you couldn't tell" she asked him in soft tone, red-painted lips quivering.

"Might you be the suspected witch?" the feminine-looking male passenger proposed, leaning forward to look on at the widow since the other male passenger was blocking his view.

Lips quirked up into a sheepish smile, the widow leaned forward as well to speak to passenger one more properly, her black tresses falling over her shoulder as she did so. "I may be said witch doctoring widow, but I assure you that I am not an actual witch." She paused for good measure. "They burned down my house, my home. I have nowhere better to go than the opposite Kingdom. Do you think I will be able to take up residence there?"

"Haha, I doubt that!"

"Sir Egbert!" passenger number one bonked passenger number two on the head, and shook "his" head. "Look, I'm sure you can find some way." The doctor leaned back again and tapped her chin, as if contemplating something. "I could probably let you stay with me, but it would be very briefly. You would have to wear something much more 'poor,' of course as well as appear to be ill, though. I have plenty of rags at my place to suit you up in for the time being."

"I would advise you, uh, cut your hair too. The length is…uhh…intimidating?" the ferry man added, however at a loss for the right words. More like he just didn't want to resort to using "witchy."

"Why thank you so much, good Sir! Though may I ask why you would do this for me? I have no way of repaying you, either…but I do plan to do so!" the widow cheered up and looked over at the doctor with glistening eyes. Said doctor chuckled while passenger two waved his arms about to get their attention, annoyed that they had ignored his existence entirely.

"Let's just say I have a little 'predicament' myself going on, hmm. Oh and the ferry man has a point. If you plan to keep those lovely locks of yours, then I apologize but you're going to have to 'rat it up.' As in, tangle your hair so that it looks peasant-like and follow along with the sick act well. It would be bad for you and I say your identity were to be discovered" the doctor said while looking forward at the nearing port. "Almost there, so stop whining Sir Egbert."

"But you're being mean Doctor Lalonde! Humph!" Sir Egbert pouted like a puppy at the doctor, and she shook her head at him in response.

"Well alright: if it saves me for even a little amount of time, I will do as you say and tangle my hair into a frizzy mess. Again, thank you so much for this! How can I ever repay you, Doctor?"

"You can start out by dropping the idea of repayment. Your gratitude is good enough for me. Besides, this is what I like to do: help people. Now rat up that hair already, time is wasting away now."

Oh, the doctor was far too kind.


	5. The Castle of Tartaunus Part I

**A/N**: So I apologize for not meeting my weekly deadline with this fic (like I said I would), but I kind of fell under the spell of leisure when I went to my Grandmother's last weekend and left early in the morning for Cedar Point (best amusement park ever I swear) on Sunday where we remained until late last night on Labor Day. Plus, my homework got the best of me that night and for the remainder of the week, which had been utter shit overall (my grades are losing their high promise).

Unfortunately this chapter was taking a lot longer to write than I originally thought it would and the drag-on has made it quite long, so I've decided that I'm going to break this up into three parts now. This one happened to be the most boring, but bear with me here for a little! The following chapter will involve some dramatic events for your entertainment and also includes minor character death (as in a maid), so don't lose faith in my ability already (I'm just getting started readers)!

**Chapter Summary**: Aradia finds shelter with the castle of Tartaunus when the doctor could no longer care for her. However with promotion-crazy maids running around, will she be able to survive the first day?

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Chapter Four

_The Castle of Tartaunus Part I_

THREE WEEKS SINCE THAT NIGHT the witch hunt had died down, most of the men believing that she had been in her house after all and burned down with it in her sleep. Life carried on as usual in Hopeland Kingdom as well as the Kingdom of Tartaunus, however the woman-no-longer-in-red would not return. Not yet, at least.

Even though it had seemed like such a short time to her, the widow could not remain with the doctor forever. She dreaded the day's arrival, but yet it had come quicker than she thought and because of such, was unprepared for the move. Her mind was blank of an idea of just where she could take up residence next, and it was apparent on her face to the doctor when Doctor Lalonde approached the seated widow.

"How goes the brain-storming now?" the doctor questioned the widow as she joined her at the crude table, pulling the mismatched other seat out to sit down.

"Obviously not doing any good, kind doctor. Whatever shall I do now?" the widow looked up from the rotted hole in the wooden table to stare on at the doctor with creased eyebrows, her dark hair messy to disguise herself as sickly and poor.

"Well," the doctor folded her hands on the surface of the round table and looked deep into the widow's brown eyes. "I have said it before and will say it again, the castle is always accepting of new servants and you will find that the Queen herself is quite the lovely young lady. At least, that's what Sir Egbert has said before. It is the only other option I can think of besides living on the streets and enacting in thievery. What say you now, Miss Megido?"

"I…" said Miss Megido had started, but trailed off and pierced her naturally red-tinted lips, unsure of how to respond. The two had been over this numerous times whenever they had the chance to discuss it, but each time the widow had declined and mentioning of the castle, figuring it would be too risky to take up work there. The Queen may be considerate, but how could she bestow kindness on a witch suspect? It was expected that the Queen would betray her to the kingdom she has allegiance with. After all, what was the worth in protecting one single servant that she could easily replace?

"I just don't think it's a good idea. What would happen if I were to be discovered? The queen would surely have my head—or worse, burn me!" the widow covered her face in her hands then and took in a couple of deep breaths, willing her usual happy-go-lucky sell to return. Unfortunately, it wasn't really happening in her state. She felt far too dead inside to go back, and it all started when her husband died—even if he _had_ "purchased" her. She had harbored some affection for him, and the loneliness that overcame her after his death had begotten her.

The doctor reached out her right hand and placed it over the widow's left when she had released her hold on her face, a warm smile gracing the doctor's features. "Darling, the castle is a lot safer than you give it credit for." Doctor Lalonde patted the widow's hand once before snaking her hand back her way and re-lacing her fingers together. "And besides, how often are you even going to see the Queen, her suitors—which I'm sure there are many,—or her allies wandering around? If anything, you might be assigned kitchen or lower level cleaning duty! Who's going to see you then? And the other workers themselves probably only care for political gossip. Sure, you may be mentioned a few times as the 'new pretty girl,' but who's going to remember you? There are _thousands_ of servants, and you would be just a speck on the wall as far as I am concerned. So I say go for it—what do you have to lose, really? If all fails, then run away! No harm in that." The doctor stood up then and turned around to head out for her daily duty in Hopeland Kingdom.

"I expect your face to be absent when I return, and I sincerely hope that you adhere my advice. I am afraid that this is good-bye, Miss Medigo, for the chances of us ever meeting again are slim-to-none" Doctor Lalonde swiveled on her heels and tapped over to where the widow still sat, and then bent over to give her a big hug (even if she had to hug wood in order to do so).

"Please take caution in whatever final decision you make. I will continue to worry for your safety even when you're gone, so leave knowing that at least one person in this world cares for you, alright?" the doctor pushed back, her hands on the widow's shoulders as she smiled at her.

"Thank you, kind Lalonde. I shall be quick to depart once you take your leave, but I do for one expect to see you again. That is, when one of the maids kicks the bucket" the widow winked at the doctor and pulled the white gauze wrapping from around her head, a small smile on her own lips. The doctor patted her shoulder and smirked then, turning to officially take her leave.

"Blessed be, Miss Megido, and may God keep his watchful eye on you for any future trouble."

As soon as the doctor was out of the disease-ridden log cabin, the widow lifted from her seat and sashayed on over to the crooked door herself, a set frown on her delicate features. She feared for her future, and honestly had no idea what she was in for at the castle of Tartaunus.

Gray wisps for ends of a dress blew along the settle breeze as the dark eyes of the owner widened at the visual: gorgeous bright towers and a large barbican with not two, but three alert guards before the risen gate. Smoothing out her tattered wear, the widow braced herself for the degrading confrontation with the men and approached them with her head held high, face impassive. Two of the three men continued to chat, unaware of her presence while the third looked on at her with a hint of a lecherous smirk.

"Excuse me, good Sirs" the widow stopped before the third frontal man, and curtseyed. "But I was wondering if there were any servant positions open, preferably of castle keep?"

With the exception of a few shared glances, the two guards on the castle side of the gate nodded their heads when the guard in front of the widow waved his hand to them. The guards then lowered the gate, the widow cringing a little at the sound of the chains-on-cog-wheels.

"You can cross over to the other side, but you will have to speak with yet another guard once you pass through the barbican. Sir Knight Strider will most likely be on the other side of the gate, and it will be him that gives you the official lowdown on the servant acceptance policy. Blessed be, milady" the guard before her stepped back with his left foot and placed a fist over his heart in respect to her, but the leery look in his eyes said otherwise to her. Gulping, the widow thanked him and curtseyed again before proceeding.

Crossing the bridge would have been delightful, had it not been for the high winds that threatened to throw her on into the moat. Though shaky, the widow smiled at the two men that displayed equally lecherous expressions as she passed on through the double doors. The barbican had been a quiet walk, and for that the widow was grateful. However, the cross over to Sir Strider had been just as dreadful as the previous bridge walk. Upon reaching this knight, she curtseyed to him like she had the previous five, but this time tried to have her smile reach her eyes. This man was the big-shot, so it was in her best interest to be as polite as possible to him.

"You came for…?" The knight spoke first without even addressing her appropriately.

"A position as a cleaning special, good Sir." Without breaking his impassive composure, the knight took a second to check out the widow's physique.

"Since you're entry level you start on the basement. Best of luck." Maybe it was her imagination, but she could have sworn she saw the stoic knight crack just the slightest hint of a tipped smile.

"Thank you, kind Sir" the widow curtseyed again, and then walked on past him, her raven hair catching the wind and lifting in his face in the process.

Now that she was inside the castle, the widow took some time to examine the intricate wall decorations, and especially the many portraits she passed on by of previous rulers and even some nobles, especially the dukes and duchesses (the kingdom appeared to favor female heads, though. It certainly put a twist on their culture, but the widow personally had no room to complain). Too fast she had reached the room and was unprepared for her meet with the Queen. Scared? Very much so, but time left no room for dilly-dallying so in she went with a helpful push from one of the two guards, the double mahogany doors not making only a small squeak as they gave way to reveal the throne room. Extravagant and large as it was, nothing beat the beauty of the ruler herself that made the golden and jewel-coated throne look dull. Even a woman such as the widow was stunned in her presence, and ended up stumbling over her low curtsey because of such. The widow could feel the flush of embarrassment arise, and the wind chime laughter that echoed across the room did not help in chasing it away.

The widow didn't dare to look up until her majesty bid her relevance.

Holding her stomach from laughing too hard, the Queen waved her free hand for the widow to stand, but spoke out when she failed to do so. "Rise, Mademoiselle, and inform me of what it is you desire. Clearly some new clothing," Queen Feferi lifted her eyebrows and her glossed lips twitched at the sight of the widow's wear. Oh no, that tripe would simply _not_ do behind the walls of her castle.

"No need to humor me, your majesty, but yes some new garment would be appreciated. However I did not come here for apparel, but rather a favorable job position." That included free living for the rest of her days, of course. Her future was looking so bright already.

"Well that is most acceptable. I have been running low on cleaning maids, anyways. Unfortunately you will have to start in the lowest level. If this bothers you, then this is not the job for you and you can seek refuge elsewhere. In my opinion, however, you seem fit enough for the duty and I would like to see you climb to the top of my servant echeladder." The Queen paused for a minute to catch her breath, then smiled at the widow and held out her arms. "Welcome to the castle of Tartaunus—it is a pleasure to have you! May I take your name now?" It was a shame that she had to ask for the widow's name, and the widow noticed the falter in her smile and felt the flush of embarrassment all over again.

"I go by the name of Aradia, your highness, and I humbly thank you for your hospitality from the bottom of my heart" she bowed in front of the Queen and ignored the bead of sweat forming at her left temple. Well her full name was Aradiella Megido, but she didn't want to take the risk of the Queen possibly recognizing it. Who knew what King Ampora said to her? Queen Feferi clapped her hands then and called out to the guard.

"Sir Adam! Please escort Miss Aradia to Miss Maryam's tailor room to have her fitted in the _pink_ maid dress. Thank you."

As the guard led her away, Aradia inclined her head to look behind her one last time at the Queen, and could have sworn she saw a mischievous gleam in her eye. And did the Queen just say "_pink_?!"

Ebony, short hair and tall was the olive-skinned woman in front of the widow. The woman wore a fine dress of many shades of green and gave the widow the warmest smile she'd ever seen on someone. Aradia felt downgraded in the woman's presence in her tattered garb.

"Welcome, Madame, may I have your name? And am I to assume that you are a new cleaning servant of our Queen?" the woman rested the thick cloth she had been holding over the back of a basket-weaved chair. She then waltzed over to address the widow more formally by standing directly in front of her, the ruffled ends of her jade dress sweeping the ground as she did so. Just as Aradia was about to respond, the eloquent woman curtseyed and introduced herself first. "Since my late husband's death, the duke, I go by my maiden name which the Queen has been so kind as to respect such a wish, but I would much rather be addressed by my first name by you, Kanaya. It's quite the unique one and will not be easily confused with by the thousands of servants, for a lot of them share the name Mary." The woman now known as Kanaya stood tall then, her bosom uplifted from the way she carried her back—straight.

"Well okay then," Aradia chuckled and ran a hand through one of her knotted strands of hair. "Aradia, please. I do not quite like my last name all that much, considering some people like to shorten it to 'Meg.' Say," Aradia began to ask a question after she rose from her own curtsey. "Must I really adorn a pink dress?" Come to think of it now that she had gotten a look around the tailoring room, all Aradia ever saw along the walls were either ordain dresses of tyranian or various pink-shaded maid dresses. However, there was one dress in particular that stood out: a crimson thin-strapped silk gown that gradually became a maroon as the dress cascaded downward, and the sparkling black underbelly only made it better. It kind of reminded her of a Gypsy's gown, and the shoulder drape that hung next to it was equally stunning in its blood-red glory.

"Ah, the old dress explanation. I've had to give this speech to every new servant that comes here. And that's not including the servants that have received promotions" Kanaya didn't even glance behind her and took a seat in the only comfy chair in the room. "Needless to say, each color stands for a servant position and are essentially what the servants look forward to in this female-ridden castle of old. All I ever hear from them is promotion this, and promotion that. Every one of them wants to wear the fuchsia dress. However, there can only be four and therefore makes for some real competition among the females" Kanaya laced her fingers together and rested her hands in her lap, her back completely straight and shoulders rolled back like a woman of nobility would sit. Aradia started to walk around the room and examine the colorful fabrics strewn about the place, though even so the room retained cleanliness.

"Actually I must warn you that the cleaning servants can be nasty, vicious workers that only have one thing on their mind: promotion. If the opportunity presents itself and disaster befalling a co-worker is the only way to obtain it, the maid will mercilessly strike out. I've seen some unpleasant things go down in this castle, and their all behind our majesty's back too, so be warned Aradia." The ex-duchess offered the widow a small smile when she stopped pacing to give Kanaya a worried expression. "Do not fear, for they would never commit the heinous crime of murder…at least not that I know of. Then again, there have been reports of some servants going missing before, so I wouldn't be all that surprised if it had been the work of a servant" Kanaya shrugged, and then leaned forward to retrieve the thick cloth she had been holding earlier, deciding to pick up on where she had left off in sewing designs into it.

"That sounds…horrible" the widow covered her mouth in mock horror and only lowered her hand when Kanaya flicked her wrist to wave it off.

"As of right now it's no big deal since the servants are mere peasants—no offense to you, of course, you're quite lovely Aradia" Kanaya apologized for her inconsiderate comment, but Aradia didn't seem to notice. Or rather just didn't care.

"But if somebody catches a servant—or group of servants—in action, they will most certainly be put out at the very worst. Our majesty may be kind, but even I highly doubt that she would condemn them to wearing the black dress. Murder is right along the lines of treason, so the punishment should ultimately be death with not even the slightest bit of mercy. Taking another's life without good reason is an absolute no-no and an insult to the Lord. Anyways, enough of that now" Miss Maryam folded her hands again and fixed Aradia with her signature Motherly smile. "Let me explain to you the significance of the many shades of pink now, as I'm sure you have been dying to here."

"Oh I have am so near death by now that I doubt your explanation will matter to me in the long run. Besides, I would much rather be wearing that lovely red dress right there. Either that, or the black maid dress. Pink simply looks horrendous on me and overall puts me in a foul mood. Is the soft pink dress really my only option, or can I wear the black dress?" The widow sat down on the basket-like chair since the fabric had been removed and lifted her eyebrows at Kanaya.

"I don't think you understand the dread that comes with wearing that black dress. It means that you could be thrown out of the castle at any given moment, and nobody wants to be around you."

"That's music to my ears, actually." They both laughed at that, and Kanaya's smile grew. This new servant was quite the individual.

"Well you would have to do something unlawful in order to wear it, which I would not advise you attempt. As for Lady Red over there," Kanaya jerked her thumb toward the crimson gown, a smirk playing on her lips.

"What about her?" Aradia tilted her head to the side, playing the confused child.

"No one exactly knows what the splendid gown stands for except for the Queen herself, but I have a great hypothesis that I'm almost positive rings true." The ex-duchess made a curt nod of her head before continuing on with her sewing task.

"Oh? And what might this hypothesis be?" the widow leaned back in her chair and waggled her brows.

"It may be completely off, but I believe that the dress is meant for a _very special_ servant, one that is worthy of entering her personal quarters. Alone."

"Ooooh, that is a wild assumption now, Miss Maryam" Aradia chuckled and sat straight like Kanaya did then, deciding to practice discipline again she had done for her late husband so many times before. "What do the other colors mean now?"

"To be brief since we're running low on time, the light pink obviously stands for either a new maid or a maid that hasn't proved her worth yet, the salmon a maid that has shown her value through her work (usually in front of the Queen herself), the hot pink is only for her restroom assistant, and the fuchsia her dressing servants. The pink apron dresses are her kitchen maids, and you know of the remaining colors. Are there any other questions lingering or shall I proceed to fit you into a light pink?"

"For a short explanation, that was fairly informative. Thank you, we can move on."

The widow stood up from her seat and the ex-duchess followed likewise, setting the thick fabric on the comforter after her. Kanaya turned to her right and approached the basket of light pink frilly dresses, each of white aprons and under ruffles.

"Let's try this small one first," she said while bending over to examine the pins. The yellow ball-end pins stood for the small size, and there seemed to be only one left. Shaking her head at her luck (she didn't exactly fancy making yet another one of those dresses, why couldn't the Queen hire heavier set servants?), Kanaya lifted the dress and removed the pin from the side of the apron, turning around and smiling a little less kindly at Aradia. "Hopefully this is the right one!"

Nodding at Kanaya, Aradia removed her tattered garb and tossed it to the side, her under-gown cascading back down her body afterward. The corner of her lips turned up into an awkward smile when the tailor had tried to dress the widow herself, and shook her head at the ex-duchess when her arms weren't quite going through. The other widow released a dry laugh and stepped back to allow the witch doctor to dress herself since she was incapable of doing it.

When the widow had finished, Kanaya had her twirl around so that she could examine the fit. So far so good, but there were a few things that could be adjusted. Of course, she hadn't noticed these flaws until she got a closer inspection, but the size was okay for the time being.

"Alright, you're good to go Aradia. You can go off and find a tour guide now, but don't let this be the last time you stop by here. I wouldn't mind talking to you again, dear" Kanaya's warm smile returned and she smoothed down Aradia's apron.

"Oh of course!" Aradia matched Kanaya's smile. "We all need someone to talk to, and I've gone without for quite a good while now. Plus, you're a kind and slightly humorous woman, who wouldn't want to make conversation with you?"

"Oh, no need to flatter me darling."

Careful not to step on any of the fabrics strewn about the room, Aradiella waved good-bye to Kanaya and headed toward the door. "Don't mention it, really" she said before shutting the door behind her. The widow did honestly find the tailor to be a pleasant lady and wouldn't mind coming to see her whenever she found the time. _If_ she ever got free time in the castle. It was probably only after bed time hours that she could wonder at all, though.

Only an hour late was an understatement. This so-called tour guide of Aradia's had shown face after she had swept the whole lower level of the castle. Way to be ahead of things, Miss Perfect (that's what the other basement maid called Aradia's tour guide, at least).

"I apologize or my unacceptable tardiness, Miss Megido, but I assure you that it was within good reason. Now then, let us abort this basement duty and return to the main floor. Come along up the stairwell" the short brunette ordered Aradia without so much as even an introduction and ascended the staircase, expecting the widow to follow immediately after her. Aradia stared at the girl's retreating form in shock at her rude behavior, and didn't actually follow her on up until after her fellow basement cleaner had patted her on the shoulder and nodded. The widow figured that it was a shared moment of understanding, but couldn't see how the girl's nod was supposed to encourage her to move on. In the end she did of course, but was wary of what the brunette's real intentions were due to the nasty tone of voice she had given Aradia.

Upon reaching the main level, Aradia found that the girl had already started down the long hallway of portraits and she had to run to catch up with the girl. What was up with the small brunette, anyways? What did she have against Aradia? She didn't even know her! It wasn't until they had reached the dark right turn at the end of the hallway that the girl stopped and turned around, hands on her hips and bottom lip jutted outward.

"Okay here's the deal: everyone that's seen you has been gossiping mad about your exceptional beauty and think that's why you almost got the open dressing position. But I don't think you're all that special. In fact, I heard you looked pretty dirty when you first entered." The girl paused for a minute to give Aradia a quick glance-over. "Since you clean up well I believe them now, but that's still not the point. You are to remain as basement cleaner or else you'll have to answer to me. _I'm_ going to get promoted to salmon soon and maybe even the hot pink if I can help it. However, your sudden presence here is threatening my chance of rising up the echeladder so you better keep a low profile bitch, or I will _end_ you. Capiche?"

Crazy, yes. Intelligent? Yeah, not so much. Aradiella was craving sleep at the moment, the threat from the other not fully registering with her. It took her a hot minute to process that the girl honestly meant murder if Aradia so much as made one slip-up that could affect the girl's goal in some way—even if it was settle—and blinked very slowly at her in response. Kanaya had been right about the other servants: they took their meager job _way_ too seriously.

"Um first of all, who died and made you Queen, hon?" Aradia lifted her eyebrows at the other before passing her up and refusing to wait for the girl to follow just like she had done to Aradiella two minutes ago. "You're clearly wearing a light pink dress and last time I checked, I wasn't blind. So that makes you on the same level as me, even if you are cleaning above ground. I only take orders from respectable servants, and I will _not_ tolerate you threatening me" she continued on with her response as she waltzed down the hallway, the clack of her pink dance heels resonating down the hall. "By this I mean if you so much as _touch_ me, you will be the one regretting it." The widow did realize the weight of her words, but she knew she could easily take out a twig like the brunette girl and get away with the disposal safe and sound.

Scoffing, the girl had caught up to Aradia and had to work to match the widow's pace, an expression of pure malice written across the brunette's face. "You dare threaten me again and _you_ will be the one that ends up in the grave, daughter of a bitch!" the girl snapped and her heels made a sound effect like it when she stopped in front of a wooden door. "Here's where you will be staying; with _me_ and some of my _friends_. Hope you don't get too comfy, because I doubt you'll be lasting more than a week here now."

With a wicked laugh, the girl opened the door and entered. Aradia shook her head at the girl's childish behavior when the door had slammed in her face, and then opened the door herself to head on to bed.

Unfortunately, Aradiella got a bad vibe from the other girls when their loud bickering had ceased the second she walked in, their expressions varying between angry and curious. Mostly angry, though. Lovely. The widow glanced about until she found an empty bed in the corner of the room and made her way over to it.

Hardly caring if the others were watching, Aradia removed her light pink maid dress and hung it up on the hook on the wall, then climbed on under the covers in only her under gown. She was far too tired to sleep with one eye open that night, and could only hope that none of the girls tried to pull a fast one on her.

Naivety was a quality that every young woman was guilty of at some point in her life.

The following morning, Aradia had woken up of her own accord and stretched her arms into the air, feeling like she had experienced one of the best sleeps in her entire short life-time. But ignorance had proved to be bliss this time around when she had failed to notice the heart cut into the area where her breast crevice was on her dress—including the exact time she had awoken. It was suspicious that all the maids were absent.

Running down the hall when she heard no sound of another servant, Aradia ended up getting lost from all the turns she had made and to no avail did she locate another maid, either. The widow had never been more grateful when she came across a petite brunette girl that had been tracing her hand along the wall to her left. Her robed garb had been a little odd, sure, but Aradia believed she had to know at least the basic layout of the castle.

"Excuse me, Madame" Aradiella called out with a huff, and stopped just behind the brunette when she had ceased her walking as well. Aradia had to catch her breath for a moment before she could continue on. "Do you, perhaps, happen to know where the kitchen is located? I've been trying to find it for a while now, and all the other servants appear to be missing so I cannot seek aid from them."

The only other person in the hallway lifted her head and turned around, and it was then that Aradia was able to make out the foggy hue the brunette's eyes had. As soon as she had opened her mouth to apologize for her inconsiderate question, the brunette had surprised her with an answer as well as a shocking husky voice for a female.

"Make a left after this corridor ends, pass Sir Knight Strider, then turn left again at the next hall. Midway down the way you should come across two tall mahogany doors to your left. Behind them is the Queen's dining hall. Knock first, though, 'lest you disrupt her meal and will therefore receive a demotion for ill-behaviored entry. Do you have any other questions you wish to ask the seer, Aradia?" It was freaky enough that this girl had known her name already, was blind, and correctly guessed who she was as well as the directions to the dining hall, but Aradiella really had no room to complain in her current predicament. She was still grateful for the free information.

"Oh no, but thank you so much for helping me! Um, I don't believe I've ever had the fortune of knowing your name myself, so could I please have it?" Even though the girl was blind, Aradia curtseyed to show respect before stepping forward to continue travelling to her destination, but only after the brunette informed her of her name did Aradia officially depart.

"Terezi is more than enough, thank you. And don't mention it; just hurry along now before you're late. We don't want to upset our majesty, do we?" The seer had responded with a tilt of her head and wicked grin that sent a shiver down Aradia's spine. Okay, that was enough talking with the seer for one day, so Aradia decided to just walk off with a curt nod of her head (though she highly doubted that Terezi was able to tell she had done so).

When she had located the mahogany doors, the widow did as Terezi had suggested and knocked. Two times. There was the sound of muffled conversation behind the double doors and some high-pitched giggles, until eventually all went silent. Someone of higher authority must have ordered it so, Aradia figured, and she took a deep breath behind the doors before pushing them open.

Bright was the light that hit her face and she had to stop and squint for a second to adjust her eyes to it. The only person she could make out in her blinded haze was the stunning appearance of the eloquently dressed Queen in her seat at the rear end of the long table.

"It is _aboat_ time that you joined us, _guppy_! Mother _cuttlefish_ was star_-fish_-ting to get worried here! Come have a seat before your _rood_ gets too _culled_; and I like the _newt_ addition to your uniform, by the _wave_, eh-heeheehee!"


End file.
